


Belladonna in Watercolour

by mephestopheles



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, First Meetings, Flirting, Fluff, M/M, Thorin's a tattoo artist, mentions of pain, tattooing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2015-12-12
Packaged: 2018-05-06 08:37:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5410211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mephestopheles/pseuds/mephestopheles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo and his work mates go to Oakenshield Designs for a tattoo party where he decides to be a bit adventurous and get his first tattoo. The only problem is his tattoo artist is hot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Belladonna in Watercolour

**Author's Note:**

  * For [writing_oddities](https://archiveofourown.org/users/writing_oddities/gifts).



> Happy Hobbit Holiday Writing Oddities. You said you liked tattoos and modern aus. I hope you really like this, and have a great season. These two dorks are adorable.

Bilbo Baggins stood outside the parlor and stared up at the sign in trepidation. Oakenshield Designs. It sounded like one of those fancy firms that would redesign your office. Not a tattoo parlor. The only thing that looked more out of place than the sign was Bilbo himself.

He was thirty-six, much too old to be getting his first tattoo. But his mates at the paper had set up a tattoo party and he’d never done anything out of the ordinary in his life. So why not be a little bold, a little adventurous.

He adjusted his rumpled sweater about his waist, opened the door and stepped into the entryway before he had a chance to change his mind. Several of his coworkers were there already and they greeted him enthusiastically.

No escaping now.

Bilbo looked around the interior and was pleasantly surprised. The waiting area was painted in a soft green with white trim, there were several plush couches with coffee tables nearby and several books displaying the work that had been done by each of the artists.

Bilbo took a seat and flipped through first one book and then the other. He knew what he wanted had known since he was a teen. But he’d been hesitant; the tattoo he chose had to be perfect. It couldn’t be some fly by night choice or influenced too much by current fads. If he was going to get something permanently etched on his body, he was going to damn well make sure it was something he wanted for more than a month.

He looked through the books to keep his hands busy, like the others, he’d sent in his design and his deposit in two weeks prior. He flipped pages, not taking in the designs so much as the colour. He was getting nervous and if the party didn’t start soon he was going to walk out; never mind the embarrassment he’d receive at work the next day.

Tauriel sat down next to him in a flounce of skirt and oversized knitwear. Her hair was pinned up and she took the book from him. “You don’t need that,” she said with a smirk. “That’s Kili’s work and I’ve already got him. Let me see, ah here he is.” She took up another book and handed it to him. “There you go. That’s who you’re getting.”

Bilbo made a non-committal sound and opened the leather bound book with shaking fingers. Underlying the nerves was the definite feeling that he wanted to vomit but the utter conviction he still wanted to do this.

“These are really good,” he said, “Why did you decide to pick this one for me?”

Tauriel laughed. “That’s easy, Bilbo. He’s the one with the first appointment. So you get to go first.”

Bilbo gulped. “I’m not that bad. Shouldn’t Sigrid be going first or something? She’s the intern.”

“Also her third tattoo. Nope, you’re the only one getting their first. So you have to go first.” She patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry so much. You’ll be fine.”

“Bilbo Baggins?”

Bilbo looked up as his name was called and felt his face flush. The gentlemen in the doorway was imposing. His head nearly touched the top of the doorframe and he filled out the snug shirt and jeans he wore. Bilbo could see several tattoos along both his arms, and peeking out from under the collar of his shirt. His hair was long and caught up in braids that led back to a one of those fashionable man buns that left Bilbo dry mouthed.

“Uh-“ He said unhelpfully. Tauriel gave him a helpful push. He stumbled to his feet and followed the tattoo artist through the narrow hallway, into the large room with several chairs.

The tattooist introduced himself as Thorin and showed him three versions of his requested tattoo that varied slightly by placement. He was gruff, and while not rude he wasn’t one of those types that molly-coddled. He had Bilbo out of his sweater and facing a mirror faster than his last seven dates.

_ The last thing you need to be thinking about right now is your pathetic love life, Bilbo Baggins, _ he thought as he looked at tried to pick a place to put the tattoo. He finally decided to have it curve over his heart and sat down in the chair and fidgeted until he was comfortable.

Thorin was rather low on dialogue only speaking to tell him what to expect and how he couldn’t move no matter what. Thorin then demonstrated by turning the needle on and setting his hand against Bilbo’s arm.

Bilbo flinched.

“You can’t do that when I start,” Thorin said. “You want any of your work mates here before I start?”

Bilbo shook his head. “I’m fine. It’s not like I’m going to faint or back out or anything.”

Thorin grunted. “We’ll see about that.”

Bilbo watched as Thorin set up his things, showed him the brand new needles in their packages and got ready to work on Bilbo’s tattoo. Thorin had long fingers and Bilbo was mesmerized by the practiced motions, the easy grace the tattooist had about himself.

Bilbo’s art lay in photography, in choosing the best angle, the lighting, in capturing the fleeting nature of the world around him. He wanted to photograph Thorin. Needed to photograph him as he worked, wanted to capture that essence if he could.

“Take a deep breath and let it out slowly.” Thorin said.

Bilbo did as he was told and he wondered if Thorin was always this laconic. He didn’t have much chance to think of anything else as the buzz of the tattoo machine filled the air and then he felt the first sting. It felt hot, and itchy, and sharp all at once. He let out another breath but he didn’t move, didn’t flinch away from the needle and he tried to bite his lip to keep still.

After several painful and silent minutes, more buzzing joined his and there was a chorus of buzzing tattoo machines in the main parlor. Bilbo turned his head just enough so he could look and sure enough the rest of his work mates were settling down to get started on their designs.

The pain didn’t abate, but nor did it intensify to the point he needed to stop. Still, he was rather focused on the needles as they punched ink into his body and he would prefer to have something to occupy himself instead of two hours of silence.

“Are you normally this quiet while you tattoo?”

“Sometimes.”

“Is there a rule against talking? Am I making things difficult?” he asked, worried. “I can try to keep quiet but I’m not used to this, nor am I frankly used to not talking so if you have no objections perhaps we could chat?” He hissed at the end of his rambling speech as Thorin started the curves on the petals.

“If it will keep you from flinching,” Thorin said. “Why nightshade? You’re not who I usually see asking for a poisonous flower.”

“Belladonna was my mother’s name,” He said through clenched teeth. “I figure this is slightly better than a mum tattoo in a heart.”

“You have watched too many shitty eighties movies,” Thorin said.

Bilbo smiled but was distracted by the very deliberate scraping pain occurring on his chest. It was a really odd pain to describe. It buzzed and intense and then abated depending on where Thorin was focusing. But it wasn’t enough on it’s own for him to tell Thorin to stop. He found that if he could pay attention to other things he could keep still.

From his seat he could see the others about the tattoo parlor. Tauriel was lying on her back with her shirt off and it looked to him as if she was getting more work done on an existing tattoo. A dark haired tattooist that looked remarkably similar to Thorin leaned over her. Quite close, another table was set up and their office intern was lying down as a blond worked on her. Bilbo couldn’t see what she was getting done, but the four of them were talking and quite obviously in their own world.

Their editor, and Bilbo’s boss, Bard was seated to Bilbo’s left as an imposing blond worked on his arm. Bard’s expression was fixed and his lips were set in a thin line, but Bilbo could detect a small blush while his tattooist spoke to him. Bilbo couldn’t hear what was being said but he’d eat his camera if the man wasn’t flirting with Bard.

Eventually his gaze came back to Thorin. Close up, he could see more of the tattoos that covered his arms, Most of them were dark, either blue or shaded black and if Bilbo remembered his art history, Norse inspired.

“Have to say I expected more screaming.” Thorin said after a while.

“Why do you think I decided to come with work friends. I’ll never live down the embarrassment should I wail or back out.” He said, wincing. It really did hurt, but the outline was almost finished, and Bilbo found the pain wasn’t so bad that he couldn’t handle it. He had to admit the view was very lovely.

Thorin chuckled. “You say that now, we haven’t gotten to the shading yet. Are you sure you want that many colours?”

“I’m quite sure. Mum was entirely too bright a person to have her tattoo be just one colour.” Bilbo said, and smiled. “Besides, if this is going to be my only tattoo it should be a big one.”

“Tell me about her,” Thorin said. “The more I know about her the more this tattoo can represent her.”

“Now you’re just bullshitting, but if it will keep me occupied. I suppose,” he said, and tried to think of a good story and he grinned. “I know just the one.”

They spoke quietly, and Bilbo told him all about how his parents met, and her illustrious beginning in investigative journalism in Europe.

“You are making this up. There is no way that happened.”

“I’m serious! Mum honestly thought dad was a spy. She said it was because he was so secretive and always kept disappearing into the loo when they went on dates. So she tailed him and that’s how she got her first big story.”

“What because she followed an architect around Prague for a month?”

“Yes, she followed him around and found out his roommate was heavily involved in a scandal with the government. It turned out my father was just smitten and nervous and was trying to ask her to marry him.”

“Didn’t they only know each other a week?”

“At that point, yes, but dad said that when he met mum he knew she was the only one he ever had eyes for.”

Thorin shared stories of his parents, and his sister and brother. His nephews and growing up. And Bilbo shared more about his cousins and then his job and his photography. By the time Thorin had put the finishing touches on the tattoo, Bilbo was thoroughly smitten and quite sore.

He finally stood up and had a look at the tattoo. It was quite large and spread from under his arm up over his chest and covered his heart. The flowers were gorgeous and seemed to fade and the colours mixed and bled into one another. Everything was red and puffy but underneath it all was something beyond his description.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “It’s gorgeous.”

Thorin blushed and wrapped the tattoo with a bandage. “You need to keep this out of the sun, and keep it clean and I have a wax that will help it heal and keep the colours bright.”

Bilbo put his shirt and sweater back on and winced as the fabric grazed his chest. “Perhaps a drink might help as well.” He said as they he took the care package Thorin handed him.

“Wouldn’t hurt, a three-hour tattoo is nothing to sneeze at the first time around.”

“Excellent, when are you free?”

Thorin stared at him long enough that Bilbo thought he might have not read the situation correctly, but a fine flush appeared across Thorin’s cheeks and a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“I’m free at eight. There’s a pub down the street that serves great food.”

“Brilliant, yeah.” Bilbo grinned and he scrawled his phone number hastily and handed it to Thorin. “I’ll see you then. Maybe you can tell me about your tattoos.”

 

 


End file.
